Things of Substance
by TamperedTemporaryBliss
Summary: Picking up the pieces of life can seem easy sometimes. But reality is that life is made out of a billion pieces, a billion of those unimportant 'little moments' that are pieced together to create a picture far from flawless. It's twisted, and weird, and funny, and stupid most of the time, but hey, it's life! (A collection of Quinntana oneshots, short stories, and drabbles!)
1. Human After All

**___QW14! Day 5 AU. Love and sex are two powerful things, used by the cold-hearted for manipulation, power, control. But love and sex aren't single sided, and ultimately are irresistible forces that render the cold-hearted manipulated, overpowered, controlled. Especially when you're out at sea, with no escape from each other._**

**___Rating: M_**

_Happy Day 5 on Quinntana Week 2014! Sorry I haven't been posting for the past few days, it's just been hectic and I haven't really had time to write! Hopefully, I can compensate for that with this oneshot which has over 13k words and some good smut!_

_The topic for Day 5 is AU, so this oneshot takes place in 17tt-18th century (maybe), and I'm sorry if some of the contents are a little historically incorrect. I did do a little research ahead of time, but given the time limit, I had limited research I could do!_

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and do show me some love!_

_(sidenote: this oneshot will probably be the beginning of a series of unrelated oneshots later, so follow this fic if you want more oneshots!)_

* * *

**Human After All**

"She's all yours, Boobs McGee, all yours."

"Thanks, Captain!" A pause. "Marley!"

"Coming!"

I hear the door slam shut, shaking the whole cell, including those flimsy-looking but surprisingly strong iron bars. The floorboards creak as the ship balances itself in the cradling ocean by tilting from side to side. Why doesn't the whole thing just fall apart already?

Here I am, sitting on a wooden board that's supposed to serve as my bed, my dress drenched in salt water, blood (not my own, duh), and a little bit of sweat. Oh, and the filth of this tiny little space that I happen to be sharing with a family of mice. I feel as filthy as a rat in the gutter.

Where the hell is self-proclaimed Prince Charming named Finn Hudson now that I'm kidnapped by… pirates? Whoever runs this ship must have some criminal background. I hate to admit it, but I could use some saving right now.

There's no way I'm breaking those iron bars with my soft hands.

I stand up, restless from the limited amount of freedom I have in this rocking cradle of hell, pacing back and forth in that 7ft by 7ft cell. At least, it looks about that size.

What am I, the future heiress of the world's greatest jewellery reseller doing in this hell-hole of nothing? I'm Quinn Fabray for god's sake. Has god forsaken me? I say my prayers every night before I sleep! But what use is it to scream for help here. No one can hear me. All I hear are waves. And the shouting of the barbarians above deck.

Why did I ever agree on going on that dingy little 'cruise' with my father? Mental note to self, always reject all trips father plans.

I think one of the floorboards is a little leaky. My feet are in a puddle right now, and it's grossing me out. Where did my shoes go?

"Hey."

I look up at the unexpected voice, but in the dim candlelight, I can only see a faint outline of a stranger. She's in pants, but her hips give it away. She's a woman, which makes my chances of not being raped better, but nonetheless, does not put me out of danger. She's skinny, not that tall, and her hair glints bronze in the fading candlelight.

"What," I retort, squinting in the dark to try to hope for some recognition of this mysterious bitch.

"I brought you some clothes to change into. Figured it might be a little stuffy in here." She reaches through the bars and hands me a folded set of clothes. I eye them suspiciously, but bring them to the wooden board anyways, setting them down so I can hold the ensemble up piece by piece to figure out what exactly I'm being asked to wear.

Oh god.

"You're going to need some help with lacing up that under-bust corset."

"No way in hell am I wearing this… thing! I'm not a fucking whore!" I spit bitterly, tossing the clothes to the side and tossing the thought of changing out of my head.

"It's the only thing left in here that would fit you. Once we get on land, I promise we'll get you something more… less scandalous?"

"I'm not changing."

The door creaks open and slams shut again in the near distance. Who is it now?

Another unfamiliar voice rings out through the darkness again, "Marley, I'll _make_ her wear that fucking under-bust corset." A dark shadow emerges from the emptiness, and instinctively, I walk a little closer to it, till I'm pressed against the iron bars, my fingers wrapped defiantly around them, as though to tear them apart. I squint again, trying to see better in the dark. "Captain wants you on deck to help her, so I'll take over here." The candle shifts from one hand to another, and for a moment, the flickering of the flame allows me to see the smallest bit of my captor's face."She's… _mine_ after all."

Again, the door creaks open and slams shut.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" I hiss. I hear the soft clicking of the stranger's boots, as she goes… somewhere… the flame being my only hint to where she is.

The flame splits into two, apparently having lit a small oil lamp in the far corner of the room. It sheds little light, but enough to let me make out the features of this bitch.

"I'm Santana Lopez, first mate of the ship," she coos at me with a sly smirk, "I'm here to help you change. Then take care of you."

"Take care… what?" I splutter. I always thought the whole plank-walking thing was a myth!

"Let's get you changed first, shouldn't we?" She pulls out a key from her sash. For the first time since she's entered, I realize that she's also in pants, in a man's attire for sea-faring. Well, generally, women don't go adventuring on the sea. Do they have no men on this ship then?

As soon as the key enters the keyhole, I lunge myself at the opening door and at the stranger, hoping to escape. To my surprise, she's strong. She's really strong.

"Woah, easy." She pushes me to the side with ease as she enters the cell unscathed, shutting it and locking it behind her.

"Give me that damned key!"

I lunge for her again, this time reaching towards her sash. If only I could steal that key!

But she's not giving it up without a fight. Instinctively, I slap her, running my palm across her surprisingly smooth and flawless face.

We both pause for a moment.

I'm not sorry.

"Genius slapper," she mutters darkly, "Jesus Christ! Just who do you think you are?!"

"I'm Quinn Fabray, heiress of Fabray and Co., so how about you just let me the hell out of here?"

She laughs coldly as though the slap never reached her, "Well, nice to meet you, Quinn Fabray." She says my name slowly, letting it roll of her tongue as she savours the taste, "Once again, I'm Santana Lopez. And as far as I'm concerned, you're my prisoner until we get to shore. Then Captain will see what she wants to do with you."

"Prisoner my ass!" I lunge myself at her again, ready to put up a fight to get that key. I'm going insane in this tiny place.

"Easy, easy," Santana sneers, and within seconds, I find myself pressed against the wall, my hands held up above my head by Santana's one hand. Her free hand is on her hip as she presses close to me, trapping me. She shoves her leg in between my two, physically letting me know I'll be going nowhere.

Fuck. Instantly, I squirm, trying to break my arms free of her death-grasp.

"Let's try this again, Blondie," she murmurs. In the dim light, her eyes sparkle. She is intimidating, though I won't ever admit it. "We'll get you changed, and then life will be easier for both of us."

"Never. Get off of me!" I struggle again, but she only holds me tighter.

"Alright, Princess," she sighs, rolling her eyes dramatically, "Don't make me do it."

"Do what?!"

"This." Her free hand reaches for my chin to steady my head. Her own head moves closer and she's about to—

"Fuck you! Stop this!"

"Make me."

"Santana!"

"That's right, that's the name you'll be screaming~" She stops, but the smirk on her face is still very much visible. She doesn't lean forward, or backward, but simply stays in place, her lips an inch away from mine. Our breaths are mingling, and though I'm slightly breathless, I refuse to give in. Are all pirates so cruel?

What's that smell? Tropical fruit? Some exotic flower? If it's Santana, she smells really good despite being stuck on a ship in the middle of nowhere.

"You're not going to rape me, are you?" I murmur, realizing that I've been looking at her for way too long, and averting my gaze.

"Jesus, no." She utters, "I may be mean and judgemental and intimidating and bitchy, but I'm not vile."

I scoff, "Yeah right."

"No really, Princess." She stares straight into my eyes, using her hand to move my chin so I'm forced to gaze back into her. She has pretty eyes.

Is she trying to eye-fuck me?

"Look, if you're willing to get changed, this is a lot easier for both of us." She reaches for the back of my dress, but I recoil, pressing myself deeper into the wall. I want to disappear.

"I'm scared," I blurt. Shit, did I just say that out loud? Despite the way I act all high and mighty, I just really want to get out of here. I'm just a small child who feels so lost. I whimper in realization. Probably not the wisest choice.

"I know." Much to my surprise, Santana's tone softens, and she takes a half-step away from me.

Oh?

"There's no one coming to save me, is there?"

"Afraid not, Blondie," her gaze softens now, and her hand removes itself from my chin.

So tugging on heartstrings will work this whole thing out? I smirk inwardly. Easy then. Getting out of here will be easier than I thought.

"Can I hug you?" I whisper. Living in an aristocratic society, you know how to be fake. It just comes… naturally.

"What?"

"Please? I just…" My voice cracks as I force tears to my eyes. In this dim light, body language will speak louder than facial expression. I let myself go a little limp. Clearly this is working on the bitch in front of me.

She's human after all.

I feel my arms freed from above my head, and instantly, I lunge myself at the woman again, wrapping my arms around her neck as I bury in my head in the nape of her neck. Hell, she smells good.

Santana stumbles backwards for a step, before hesitantly putting her arms around my waist. Clearly, this is all new to her. "I'm sorry I scared you, Blondie." Her voice is equally as hesitant as her arms, but I waste no time in asking for sympathy. In a situation like this, I need control.

I sniff in response to her words, simply holding her closer. "Promise me you won't hurt me…"

"I…" Santana has no choice if I'm playing her with my whole heart. I know how to be in control, "I promise. I promise I'll protect you."

"Hn." I whimper again, shaking a little bit just to make myself look more pathetic. Pulling on a few more strings here and there. Being a puppet master.

"Shh…" Santana takes her arms off of me, puts her hands on my shoulders and holds me at an arm's length. There's something about the look in her eyes as I pull away that seems a little unsettling. "Let's get you changed now, alright? You're not going to feel much better being stuck in these layers of… ruffles."

"Could I get a bath of some sort?" I murmur softly, my eyes pleading.

"Well… I suppose. There's a barrel of water in the corner here." Santana doesn't let go of me, but turns her head to locate the said barrel. "Let's get this off of you first, and then we'll get you washed up. But don't use all the water, it's fresh, so you'll need some to drink."

I nod like an obedient little child, looking down and biting my lip. For all I care, I look vulnerable, and nothing works better than looking vulnerable when someone feels sympathy for you.

I'm using Santana, I know, but so what? Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Alright, let's get you out of this first."

She goes behind me to unbutton my dress. Obviously, she knows what she's doing. I wonder why and how. I doubt she's ever worn a dress before.

I hear her inhale at the sight of my backside, and I smirk. So maybe she is the masculine type. And on a ship with all girls… maybe…

Sex never comes without attachment, you know?

"Can you… finish the rest yourself?"

"I want to," I whisper innocently, "But I can't lace a corset properly alone."

"Oh, alright," she mutters, helping me out of my dress from the back. As the fabric pools on the floor, I step out of it and turn around, knowing full well that the only thing on me now is an over-bust corset and skimpy underwear.

"Oh god," Santana's breath hitches as I turn, and instantly, I know I'm on the right track. I'm flawless and beautiful, after all. I've been told I resemble a goddess.

"Do you… " I look away for a moment in mock shyness, "like what you see?" I fiddle with my fingers, flinching uneasily. Santana seems almost too comfortable.

"Yeah… I mean…" She's clearly lost for words as she practically undresses me with her eyes. What's the point? She'll be undressing me soon enough.

I'm going to make her my personal slave until we get ashore. Then I'll make her set me free. Then I'll find my way back home. Even if this all means letting her fuck me senseless right now. No, I am not a whore, but I certainly don't intend to rot here. Good things come with a few consequences. And I'm willing to take them.

I bite my lip again, stepping closer to Santana. I take her limp arms from her side, and put them around me, as though to guide her hands to the lacing of my corset. But of course, that's not my real intention. I let her hands rest on my hips as look up at her. Santana's a little taller than me because of her boots. Still, her being taller only aids me. I can looks smaller and more helpless. I stare into her eyes, and find her staring back with equal intensity. I tip toe a little more, and kiss her on the lips.

At first, she seems to pull away slightly, but almost within seconds, she starts kissing me back. To my surprise, this isn't like the sloppy kisses that Finn-the-coward gives me… it's more… sensual… It's the way she moves her lips gently against mine, taking her time, as though we had forever in this cell.

Maybe to her, I do have forever here. For me, not so much.

Her tongue darts out to lick my bottom lip, and like a wave, it tosses my mind straight into oblivion. I'm diving headfirst into an unknown sensation.

And said sensation blossoms within me as I part my own lips to let out a small whimper, only to find her tongue against mine, still taking it's time to explore me.

I don't know when or how, but my fingers find themselves tangled into her silky black locks as I'm backed against a filthy wooden wall again.

Somehow, I feel like I'm losing myself as I feel Santana's lips trail downward, straying from my lips and latching themselves onto my jawline, trailing lower onto my neck. I groan as I tilt my head back, allowing her more space to work her magic. Everywhere she's kissing seems to burn with a new fire in this dingy and cold cell.

Santana sprinkles kisses along my collar bone, ready to go lower anytime. As she reaches the edge of my corset, though, I let out another whimper as I reach out to stop her.

"I…" Santana pulls herself away from me, her hair dishevelled thanks to the wonderful work of my fingers. She actually looks really beautiful. Her flawless tanned skin… her chocolate brown eyes… In the dark, everything looks a little more mysterious.

"Go slow on me," the gentleness in my own voice surprises me, "I'm…" I trail off as Santana pulls me closer to her, her hand resting on the small of my back. I can feel her heartbeat, skin to skin.

"You're a virgin?"

I blush at the word, averting my gaze once more, "Yeah…" It's not a lie, Finn is really bad at turning me on, and so we never really do it. I don't let him put it in anyway. Santana, on the other hand… if this is how being turned on feels like, it's the most beautiful yet most painful thing ever. Or maybe something better awaits. They say orgasms feel even better?

"I can go gentle on you," Santana whispers into the shell of my ear, making me shudder instantly. _Control, Quinn, control. It's all a game of control._ She doesn't pull away after speaking though. Instead, she starts to suck softly at my earlobe. I feel a jolt of arousal shoot through my body and I press my body further into her's instinctively. I moan.

"Shit, Santana…" I exhale, falling limp into her embrace again. Whatever she's doing, she's doing a great job. I suppose that since I'm stooping so low already, I might as well enjoy myself while she works her filthy magic. Not that I could deny myself the pleasure.

"Quinn…" She whispers my name like it's a sacred word as she props me back against the wall for support. The way she says my name in that husky voice makes my knees feel weak.

Pressing me against the wall with her own body, Santana brings her lips back to mine one more time, and she kisses me softly again. I move my lips against her's, almost all too willingly. I don't want to think about where I'm doing this, or… why…

Her lips retrace the path along my jawbone, down the nape of my neck, and onto my collarbone. Only this time, I don't stop her.

I feel her fingers dancing on my back, reaching further up to find the lacing of my corset. She finds the ribbon in no time, tugging at it, and within moments, I feel air flooding back into my lungs. Sometimes, I'm so used to wearing this devil-created contraption that I forget I can barely breathe in it.

My breath comes out extra shaky as I try to exhale, finding that she has already unbuttoned the front of my corset, tossed it aside, and landed her lips just above my nipple.

Fuck, Santana is…

I let out a small groan in protest as she kisses the sensitive skin on my breasts, almost forcing me to lean further back into the hard wooden wall to support myself, but I do nothing to stop her. If anything, I don't ever want her to stop.

Her fingers inch up my sides and she palms my breasts, groping softly, but it's driving me insane. I arch my back even more, my fingers finding themselves in her raven locks once more, trying to guide her lips where I want them.

She's denying me the pleasure though, agonizingly teasing me on my breasts everywhere but where I want.

Unexpectedly, her fingers pinch my nipples, and I let out a strangled whimper at the newfound sensation. "Santana… don't… tease…"

"Not trying to…" I watch with anticipation as she pulls away and stares into my eyes, her lips still ghosting right by the hardening nub. She's making this so painful for me… driven by desperation, I need her now. "You said to go gentle, right? I'm not… used to going gentle…"

Even in the dim light, I can see the soft shade of red that tints her cheeks as she continues staring into my eyes, this time her tongue flicking out to graze my nipple in an experimental lick.

"Fuck!"

"Shit, sorry, did that hurt?"

"What?" I swallow as Santana pulls away again, "No… Just… unexpected and… good…?"

Santana smiles softly, before leaning in to drop a kiss on my breast again, "Alright… I usually just go rough on people… so I wasn't sure…"

So she's not new at this, is she? What makes me think she's new at this anyways? Assuming we're aboard a ship filled with women… this kind of entertainment must be really normal. Really… really normal…

"So… should I… continue?"

"You talk too much, you know," I murmur, my fingernails scraping softly on her scalp. I exhale out of relief as I feel her lips touch my nipple again.

Santana begins to suck softly, licking every now and then. She runs her finger just around my other nipple, drawing random patterns. Every now and then, her finger runs over it, and she pinches it out of the blue…

Already, I'm going weak against her touch, my head tilting back as she entices each and every moan out of me.

I'm pathetic.

I suddenly feel a little ashamed. Just a little.

"Hey…" I gasp as I feel teeth pulling gently.

Santana seems to be thoroughly enjoying my responses, but she pulls away all the same, "Yea?"

"I… It's embarrassing to be the only one without clothes on…" I breathe, staring into her eyes as I suck my lower lip in to bite.

Pulling away from me, Santana raises an eyebrow in this dim candle light, hesitant to undo the crimson sash tied around her slender waist. I know that's where the key is, and for a moment, she seems to ponder whether or not I actually know.

She decides within seconds that whether I know or not, it is safe enough to take the sash off. She tugs at the fabric, wrapping it into a bundle and tossing it aside.

I watch her with a growing blush on my cheeks. She's actually going to do this, is she?

Immediately, Santana begins to unbutton her loose shirt. As she pops each button open, I find my eyes tracing the path her nimble fingers take, almost wanting to see more of… her…

She tosses her shirt aside in a well practiced motion, revealing her full breasts in all their glory. She's beautiful. A pang of arousal hits my lower abdomen, and I give a small whimper at the sensation.

I force my eyes away from her inviting breasts, tracing my gaze down to her abdomen. Honestly, the sight I find there doesn't make my breathing slow down. If anything, it makes my heart race. Santana has toned and defined abs. All the work she's done on this ship has certainly served her well.

"Like what you see?" I hear her voice mutter mischievously, echoing my own words from before. Her eyes twinkle as I raise my gaze to her and nod absentmindedly. "Should we… maybe… continue?"

As Santana kneels on the floor in front of me, my breath hitches. She doesn't break our stare as she kisses each of my breasts again, then trailing kisses down my sides, onto my navel, threatening to go dangerously low. She stops at the hem of my panties, though, taking her time to kiss the sensitive skin. I see myself in her chocolate brown eyes.

I feel pleasure pooling hot and low, ready to explode. I want to explode. Why don't I tear my gaze away from her's?

My panties are beginning to feel sticky, uncomfortable, a fabric prison which deprives its prisoner of utmost pleasure. I want them off.

"Santana…" the sultriness in my own voice surprises me, but I decide to toss all pride aside. Having already brought to this state, I just need Santana to go through with this…

"Are you sure you want this?" There's a depth in her gaze, as though she really cares.

"God, yes, don't talk… just… ahhnn!" My words roll into a moan while my thoughts roll into a mess as Santana licks my clit through the cloth. Whatever intense eye-fucking she was doing to me clearly has a greater effect than I anticipated. She licks again before I can really respond, and I tilt my head back and instinctively part my legs a little more so she can gain more access.

Santana slides down my underwear with a swift moment, the cold air of the small cell hitting my heat instantly. I shiver as I feel her warm tongue ghosting on my clit again.

I close my eyes, too ashamed to see this for myself, and feeling too pleasured to want to stop.

Allowing Santana to lift one of my legs over her shoulder so she can have the better angle, I tangle my fingers in her hair to provide myself with something to hold onto.

When Santana's tongue comes into full contact with me, I whimper out another curse. All coherent thoughts are ripped out of my head as pleasure soars through me, coursing through every pulsing vein in my body.

Her licks are gentle, but they're consistent, and whatever motion she's doing down there with her tongue, it feels all too good.

I dig my fingers further into her hair, my knees shaking with every wave of pleasure. My whole body is jolting against the wall, and I don't think I can keep myself upright much longer.

As if on cue, Santana steadies my bucking hips with her two hands, pressing me into the wall, but holding me up as well. She never ceases the motion of her tongue, and frankly speaking, I'm about to lose my mind.

I feel a tingling sensation, and for a moment I feel like I'm actually ready to burst. My whole body begins to shake and I'm almost too certain that my legs will give out. Clutching and yanking on Santana's hair, I let out a strangled moan before pleasure erupts inside me, knocking me over like a wave in the ocean.

Santana's tongue continues to run along my clit, this time travelling down between my folds, and I again shudder at the contact, a rather feral sound escaping my lips.

"Fuck, you're soaked."

I'm too breathless to shut her mouth, so I just try to push her head back closer towards me. My strength is failing though, with my shaking limbs too weak to really move. Within moments of that orgasm, I'm aroused and needy all over again. This woman can work magic.

Santana doesn't even need to try as she gets off her knees and moves to kiss me on the lips. I can sort of taste myself on her, which in any other situation I would have found offensive and disgusting, but right now, with her finger already rubbing in a circular motion on my clit, I allow her to kiss me, to drown out and swallow my whimpers and moans.

Santana presses her body on me, trapping me against the wall yet steadying me at the same time as my body shudders, shakes, and jolts with each of her ministrations. I can feel her breasts against mine, and just the thought of that alone makes me want her more desperately than I already do.

Her fingers trail down from my clit, slipping between my folds and tracing my core. A single finger slips inside of me without warning.

It hurts a little bit, as… wet as I am, but Santana's gentle kisses and the way she grinds her palm against my clit makes the pain subside within seconds.

Beginning to move her finger in and out at a slow pace, Santana, parts my lips with her tongue and kisses me with a passion I never knew existed.

Santana wiggles her fingers inside of me, although I'm barely aware of her obviously expert motions, I am all too aware of the way she makes me feel when her fingers brush across a certain spot. Again and again, I moan, desperate to breathe as I break our kiss, resting my forehead against her shoulder and holding onto Santana for dear life.

I buck my hips to get the most out of her lone finger, as she kisses the side of my neck. She adds another finger, again without warning, and I cry out, biting her shoulder subconsciously to subdue another series of moans.

I hear her swear under her breath, and it turns me on impossibly more.

Within the next few fluid thrusts, I feel pleasure ready to explode once more, and I unravel with her finger at the very spot that sends me to heaven.

I clench tightly onto her fingers, letting out yet another throaty moan, half whimpering her name in the process. My body jolts and tightens over Santana's fingers. This earth shattering orgasm is the best I've ever had.

I feel alive.

Santana slowly slips her fingers out of me as I'm brought down from my high, still taking the time to softly rub at my still overly-sensitive clit, sending small shots of pleasure into my body, like the aftershocks of an earthquake.

I fall limp into Santana's arms as she fully removes her fingers from me. My clit is swollen and throbbing, my heart is gradually slowing down, but my breathing is still ragged.

I know if she lets me go now, I will drop to the floor in a heap. My limbs are weak, and I can barely stand.

"Quinn, you alright?" Her voice is soothing, dreamy even, as she holds me a little closer, "Did I overdo it?" She intertwines our fingers.

Having long since given up trying to form words, let alone sentences, I simply shake my head. Santana smiles in the dark light of this little prison cell, inhaling before picking me up bridal style in one fluid motion and helping me onto the wooden board. I lie down naked, eyes still closed, but my fingers still entangled in her's. I feel an aching in my body already, but it aches just right, like a friendly reminder of the mind blowing events that were a new reality only moments before. Nonetheless, I pout.

"Would you like it if I stayed here tonight? It's getting late outside… you should… get some rest…"

I whimper in response, tightening my grip on her fingers. I feel her sit down on the edge of the hard board, and then lie down beside me.

I roll onto my side, pulling her hand with me, draping her arm over me like a blanket. She holds me a little closer, moving my hair aside with her free hand, and then resting her own head at the crook of my neck, "Tomorrow, I'll ask Captain if you can sleep in my cabin with me. This board isn't good for your back."

I smirk in the dark, even in all my tiredness. I've very successfully squirmed my way into one Santana Lopez's heart.

—

"Santana's looted another heart!"

"Oh shut it, Marley!"

I watch with curiosity from the safe distance of five meters away from the rest of the crew as they share a meal, passing along bread, dried fruits, some sort of meat, and containers full of beer.

It's not that I'm not hungry. It's just that being brought into the daylight, above deck is a blessing already.

Last night's events had rendered me so powerless and tired that I had slept past noon. When I awoke, I was surprised to find a faithful little Santana lying behind me still.

Honestly, it's nice to be able to fall asleep with someone and wake by them too.

Of course, when I woke up, I was still a little shaky on my legs, but Santana took care of me, bathed me with a rag and the barrelled water, and then dressed me in this ensemble that I almost wish I wasn't wearing.

Thankfully, the dark brown skirt isn't too short, even if the material is coarse and itching up my legs. The shoulderless white blouse is a little too scandalous for my liking, and once completed with a dull crimson under-bust corset that's thankfully loosely laced, the whole costume makes me look ridiculous. But Santana seems to fully enjoy seeing me in this awkward choice of clothing, so I suppose I will bear with it. At least none of the crew have tried to hit on me or anything… forbidden while I'm dressed like this. Can they smell in the air or tell by my face that I'm taken? Oh god, maybe they heard me last night! No, no, musn't be.

In the distance, the sun is hiding its final rays of light beneath the horizon. The sea is calm, and the sound of the crew laughing is actually surprisingly comforting.

Right now, a brunette dubbed 'Marley' (who I found out had brought me my clothes last night) and a blonde I have now understood to be called 'Britt-Britt' (who still believes in mermaids?) are busying themselves with teasing Santana about her night spent in the dingy cell with me. I ought to be more ashamed of it, but I am not. In all honesty, I wouldn't have given up it up for anything. A feeling like that was worth every bit of shattered pride. No it wasn't. At least, it's not supposed to.

I gaze into the distance again, watching the small remainder of the sun set into the sky. Night sweeps over the sky quickly. I can still hear the crew's laugher, their friendly teasing, but having been more or less chained onto a wooden pole in an isolated corner of the deck does make me feel a little lonely. I don't understand why I'm chained… my only escape from this ship is miles and miles of endless ocean, which is barely an escape at all.

"Hey, you hungry?"

I look up to find Santana looking at me with a smile. She holds a small dried and wrinkled fruit out to me, but the first thing I notice is her unbuttoned shirt. Shit.

"Yeah… a bit." I shift my position to reach for the fruit. I wince as the shackles dig into the skin of my ankle.

"You okay?" Santana kneels before me almost instantly, her hands on my already bruised ankle, "I want to take this off… but… Captain Sylvester…"

"I understand," I whisper, "I'm glad enough I'll be sleeping in your cabin instead of in the cell tonight already."

"While being tied to me," she adds, her eyes still focused on my ankle, "But I'm sure you don't mind that."

"Yeah…" I blush a little, suddenly feeling a little flustered.

"Do you think Captain can see your ankle if I'm kneeling here?"

I peer over her shoulder, "Not really."

"Don't utter a sound, okay?"

I watch Santana curiously, but I nod.

Santana pulls a key from her sash, quickly shoving it in the keyhole and freeing my ankle from the deathly metal restraint.

To my surprise, Santana then sets the key aside, pulling her shirt out of the sash, shrugging it off with ease. I'm too busy staring at her revealed breasts to hear the ripping of the fabric. Only when I feel her lifting my ankle to wrap the shredded cloth around it that I realize what she's doing.

"Santana!"

"Hush. This will stop the chaffing, alright? I'll grab a shirt from my cabin in a bit, just let me get this all set. Don't breathe a word about it."

Within moments, her skillful fingers wrap the cloth around my ankle, securing it with a knot, and she clamps the shackles back on. It doesn't hurt this time though, the fabric cushions the weight. I smile softly at her kind gesture as she retrieves the key and sprints to her cabin for another shirt. With the covering of the night, the crew don't seem to notice her absence, or the absence of her shirt.

When Santana returns, she flashes me a smile, and then proceeds to walk long strides across the deck to rejoin the group. Staring at her back, I find myself smiling back, genuinely thankful that I have her on this ship, even if I'm held captive.

Santana isn't actually half as badass as she made herself seem within the first few moments of meeting me. I suppose it's really the first impressions that she believes in. But with me, first impressions don't stay that easily.

Looking up into the sky, I find stars twinkling back at me. Strangely, on this foreign ship, in this foreign ocean, I don't miss home. In fact, if anything, I feel strangely at home.

Somewhere under the sparkling stars, I must have dozed off, because when I find my eyes open again, the glowing light from lamp had long since faded, and the sound of a chattering and cheerful crew had long since vanished. It's also a little chillier than I remembered.

Suddenly, I feel a coarse material being draped over my shoulders. I look up to find Santana looking back at me, a sympathetic smile gracing her bold features. She looks a little bit surprised to see me awake. How long have I been sleeping here?

"Um… do you want to… maybe go back to my cabin?"

"For sex?" I blurt innocently, watching Santana's eyes sparkle a little more in the starlight. I'm not the wisest speaker when I've just woken up.

"If you insist," she whispers seductively, reaching for her sash for her key, "but I think you need a rest." My eyes follow the glimmer of the key as soon as it's out into the open air.

The lock on my ankle opens with a soft click, and Santana puts her arm around me to help me stand up. My legs are wobbly from sitting down all day (and half a night), and I realize I'm still aching in all the right places. She's right. So maybe I do need a break.

My bruised ankle throbs as blood rushes into it.

"So… how are you planning on tying me up tonight?"

Santana laughs as she leads the way into her cabin, "You sound like you're looking forward to something kinky."

"N-no!" I protest, pouting even though I doubt she can really see me, "I'm just asking!"

"Well… we can either do the hand or the ankle. I'll use a rope, so it'll give us a little more space to move around?" She pushes open a ragged curtain, revealing a small room with a thin mattress in the corner, raised by a huge wooden cabinet of some sort. It's a shabby little space, but a huge improvement from my little hell of a cell. "Or…"

"Or what?" I murmur as she shuts the curtain and leads me to her 'bed'. She props me up on the edge of the mattress, and I stare at her expectantly as she lights an additional lamp in her room to make it a little brighter.

"Or, we can tie you to the bed?"

These words bring a genuine blush onto my cheeks and I avert my eyes as Santana comes closer. My heartbeat skyrockets as she leans down and places a soft kiss on my lips, "So, Princess, which is it?"

I don't answer, biting my lower lip and giving her silent permission to make the choice for me. To be honest, I am a little tempted to see what the whole tied-to-the-bed thing would turn out to be.

"You're unsure, mm?" She takes a seat beside me, her fingers brushing against mine on the bed, "I thought it'd be a li'l… wanky. But maybe too much for you."

I let my silence be my answer as my cheeks grow redder and my heart beats wilder. I know it's not what she just said… it's the way her pinky has hooked itself onto my own.

"Or… we could sleep like last night, and we don't have to tie you up at all, since if you move, I'll wake."

Her hand creeps onto mine, and though her touch is soft, it's firm. And comforting.

A sudden wave of tiredness hits me, reminding me that it's way past my usual beauty-sleep time, and that I ought to be lying on the bed, ready to sleep.

I subconsciously lean my head on her shoulder as we continue sitting in silence. She laces her fingers with mine.

I can feel her breathing, and I can hear her heartbeat in my current position. It's a relief to find that her breathing and heartbeat are no less erratic than mine.

I'm not the only one feeling this, then. But for her, this feeling is real. For me… not so much.

"Sleep with me," I whimper, raising my head slightly to look at her.

She looks utterly confused by my suggestive words, but nonetheless shifts her position so she can lie down beside me.

"Do you want the lights out?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice."

As I lie down, letting my body press onto the mattress, I watch Santana's every move. She's a really confident looking beauty. Pity she's falling within my grasp so fast.

"Q, don't you want to take that corset off? You'll sleep better without it."

"Can you help me?"

"Quinn…" her eyes linger on my body and her words linger on her lips, "you can undo it yourself from the front…"

"Help me?"

With a sigh, Santana kneels on the bed, pulling on my arm to make me sit up. I obey, and bite my lip again as her fingers reach for the buckles of my corset. She lets them loose one by one.

Almost instinctively, my own fingers reach out to unbutton her shirt. What am I doing? I do not know. It just feels natural.

Santana doesn't stop me, but she pauses her motions to stare at me. I stare back, letting myself drink in the passion in her brown eyes.

"I think we should sleep," she whispers hoarsely as she tosses my corset to the floor of the gently rocking ship, "It's getting late."

"Or…" I slip the shirt off of her shoulders, my eyes travelling down to her breasts again. I get up on my knees, crawling up to her, closing the distance between our lips.

I don't kiss forcefully, and within moments, I let her take the lead in our kiss, but to say that it was forced would have been a complete lie.

The way Santana's fingers travel lightly along my jawline and my neck drives me insane. Just that simple touch is enough to send me into a newfound paradise.

But no paradise lasts.

"Tana…" I pull away, panting softly, "Sleep…"

A hint of disappointment appears in her eyes, but she nods, helping me lie down again, before taking her position behind me, "Sleep… Goodnight, Quinnie."

"Goodnight, Santana." I bring her hand up to my lips, kissing her finger once, before guiding it accidentally-on-purpose to rest my breast. I wonder how much self control she's using to stop herself from groping them.

Just keeping her wanting more.

—

"Do you think you can steal another orange from the kitchen?"

"Do you think you can eat it without being seen?"

I shake my head playfully, fingers still clutching onto her arm, "Please? We can share it in your cabin!"

"Quinn…"

"I'm hungry! And I feel sort of sick and sore! What if I get scurvy or something and all my teeth fall out?"

"Quinn… It won't happen! It's been less than two weeks on this ship!"

"Please, Tannie, pleasseeeee?" I pout, looking a little crestfallen.

"No, it's too risky. I don't wanna get caught."

"But you told me you're good at stealing! Is Santana being chicken now?" I muse aloud, haughtily looking over at her direction. A sly and thin smile appears on my face, "Or do you think I should go do the stealing?"

"Quinn…" Santana grits her teeth, her brows furrow in frustration, torn between wanting to please me and obey the rules of this fleet.

"Fine! Leave me to get scurvy then!"

"Don't be so unreasonable," Santana mutters with a sigh, reaching out to touch my arm. I shift away.

We're on the deck, so the affection ought to be kept at an all time low. Santana, though, doesn't seem bothered by the occasional wandering eyes that catch a glimpse of our 'passion'. "I promise I'll take you out to a hearty meal when we get to land, alright?"

I perk up at the word 'land', "And how long will that take?"

"To land…?"

"Yeah, to land!" I see a shade of doubt on Santana's eyes as my sudden enthusiasm explodes, "I mean… I just… miss having my feet on solid ground and everything."

"Yeah…" She gives a soft sigh, "I get it. This life isn't for you, is it, Blondie?"

I look into her eyes, trying to find out what she is asking me. There's a sincerity in her eyes that makes me feel unsettled.

"I…" Her fingers creep towards mine, but I don't move my hand away, "It's just that I've been born on land, brought up on land, and done everything on land… I'm just used to the thought of being able to walk to places without being confined to a wooden thing floating on the water…"

"I get it," she murmurs, "If the skies stay clear we'll reach land in no more than two weeks."

"Hey… do you know what your captain wants to do with me…?" I raise my gaze to the horizon, watching as the sun shimmers over the water, settling lower into skies.

"Mm… Not what I've done to you?" Santana sighs softly as she puts an arm around my waist, pulling me in, closer to her. Possessive, protective.

"Will she kill me?"

"I won't let her."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really…" She turns to look at me, "I promised I'd protect you, right?"

Tilting my head and resting it on her shoulder, I try to find her fingers with my own, "Do you believe in love, Santana?"

Silence. I don't push on. I know I am pretty cruel, using her like this… but how else am I supposed to get out of here?

"Hey, Santana!"

Instantly, we pull apart. It's not out of embarrassment. Just instinct. I think.

"Yeah?" We turn around in time to see Marley turn the corner and face us.

"One of the girls in there are offering tattoos. Got some new stuff from the market we last stopped at. Wanna get another one?"

"Mmm… maybe? I'll come in a bit later."

Marley nods and turns on her heels to return to wherever she came from.

"Tattoo?" I whisper, "Doesn't it hurt?"

"It does, actually," Santana smiles softly at me, "But it's pretty."

"Do you have one already?"

"Yeah. Two, actually. One on my lower back and the other on my shoulder blade." She unbuttons her shirt right there in the open, turning around before I can catch a proper glimpse of her breasts. She has a small star on her left shoulder blade, and a more elaborate pattern of flowers on her lower back.

I cock my head to the side in curiosity.

"Do you want to get one?" Santana puts her shirt back on, buttoning it as she turns to face me.

"But it'll hurt!" I frown, genuinely interested in the prospect of getting one.

"I'll get one with you if you want. Just something small? You can hold onto my hand the whole time?"

I'm tempted by the offer, but I don't like the possibility of pain. "What will you get this time though?"

"I don't know, what do you want me to get?" She takes my hand and begins to walk in the direction that Marley came from.

"I…" A sudden thought passes through my head, and I let out a small smile, "Would you dare to engrave my name on yourself?"

"Your…" Santana stops in her tracks, looking at me right in the eye. She frowns.

"Would you?"

"If I do your name 'Quinn', I want an 'S' on your body." She has a defiant smile that graces her face as she regains her pace, taking me with her.

"It can be small right? I don't want it to hurt so badly…"

"Yea, we can do that. On the hip bone?"

"Um… sure…?"

"Left or right?"

"Up to you…" I feel a sudden sense of insecurity sweep over me. How will I explain this to Finn when I'm home? I could certainly say that the pirates _branded_ me, but it just wouldn't feel right to say that. Would it?

Santana pushes open a heavy wooden door, the noise of a merry crowd hitting me instantly. The Captain is no where to be seen, but it seems as though everyone else is here.

"Tanniee! I got a mermaid!" Britt-Britt comes bounding right at us, tackling Santana. I don't like the way she latches onto Santana like I'm not there. But who am I to judge?

"Oh? That's cute!" Santana smiles. I've noticed the way she smiles at Britt is different than the way she smiles at everyone else. Even at me. With me, it's more similar, but still different… Why do I care?

"I added it to the star we did together last time! Maybe you can add the mermaid to your star too? I bet all mermaids wish they could touch the stars. So we can help them make their dream come true!"

I visibly frown, unlocking my fingers from Santana's. I don't like the idea that she's gotten a tattoo with someone else before. Do these two have history? Or worse yet, chemistry?

I'm jealous because that could mess up all my plans. Why else would I be jealous?

"Sorry, Britt. Maybe next time? I promised Quinn here I'd do a tattoo with her."

"Oh." Britt turns her head to look at me, before grabbing my hand and dragging me towards the center of the cabin with a dopey grin, "Heyyy can someone help her do a tattoo?"

Santana follows close behind, her fingers somehow finding mine again. She holds onto them tightly this time, not allowing me to escape from her grasp.

"Alright," a rather… large woman grips my shoulders and sits me down on a barrel. Santana sits herself on the barrel beside me. "What do you want?" She's gruff and coarse. I feel a little scared.

"Geez, Lauren. Don't be so cruel to our newcomer."

"She's hardly new, bitch," the 'Lauren' person sighs, "Alright, what da you two want?"

"Can you do a… 'Quinn' on my right hipbone? And then an 'S' on Quinn's?"

"Are you two like… a thing now?" Marley pips from the side, coloring my cheeks pink.

"No!" Santana and I both answer a little too quickly. It stings to hear her say that and get all defensive about it, even though I know it's the truth. I wonder if she hurts from me saying that…

I watch with apprehension as Lauren dips a needle into ink, "Which one of you ladies wants to go first?"

"I'll go first. It's 'Q-U-I-N-N'." Santana mumbles, reaching out to hold my hand. I take it silently, my eyes focused on the point of the needle as it hovers above Santana's skin. I just realized she's taken off her sash and lifted her shirt. Where's the key?

The point of the needle breaks Santana's skin, and she bites her lip a little, still smiling and looking at me. She doesn't look at the pattern forming on her skin. Maybe it hurts less when you don't look.

I watch, though, as patterns begin to take shape, swirling over her flawless skin. I see my own name begin to take shape, and I feel a strange sense of pride and possession. I like it.

Time passes quickly when you're focused on something. Within a short time, it's my turn.

"Lift up your skirt, dear," Lauren coos as she dips the needle into ink again. I swallow, but I do as told. Revealing the skin on my right hip, I clutch onto the dress itself and to Santana a little tighter. I decide to stare at Santana, hoping that will ease the pain.

The first prick takes me by surprise and I let out a small yelp. Santana looks almost apologetic as she smiles at me, rubbing her thumb on the back of my hand. She holds a small cloth over her own tattoo, maybe to dry the blood or whatever that I'm certain is spilling out of my body right now. I try to focus on Santana's eyes, the passion I find there, and the surprise it brings me. Little by little, the stinging becomes a little more numb, and in a few more moments, there's an elaborate floral pattern on my hip, with a little 'S' nested into it. It's beautiful really.

Lauren presses a small cloth over the tattoo, "Let's pray it doesn't get infected."

"What?" My eyes grow wide as I rip my gaze from Santana to Lauren.

"Don't scare her, Lauren," I hear Santana say, "It doesn't happen often."

"So it happens?" I whip my head back towards Santana.

"Easy, Blondie, you're going to break my hand…" She shakes herself free of my clutch, shaking it in the air to get the blood back into it. "It won't happen, not under my watch. I know how to wash that properly, so don't worry!"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

I feel a little doubtful still, but the sincerity in Santana's eyes reassures me a little. It also breaks me a little, knowing that in two weeks time, I will be betraying her trust.

But a victor must be merciless and cruel. I cannot let my emotions get ahead of my escape plan. I will leave this ship, and I will leave Santana. It's the right thing to do.

—

"How long have you been living on this ship?"

The darkness covers us both as the ship sways gently from side to side in the tossing ocean. Wrapped in her arms and lying together on the mattress strangely makes me feel security.

"Mm… Five years?" Santana kisses the back of my neck softly. We're both sweaty, and very much naked. I tremble at every touch she gives, still sensitive from… well…

"Where were you before that?"

"Me? At sea, still. I was born on a ship."

"Is Captain your mother?"

Santana laughs, "Oh, I'd rather kill myself, Q! My mother… " A silence covers the room. I snuggle a little closer to her. "My mother and I were captured in a fight. She died from untreated battle wounds… I was rescued by this ship."

"Oh… sorry I asked…" A wave of guilt washes over me as I realize why she's so easily manipulated now that I'm a prisoner of her's. She doesn't want another person to lose a loved one to captors again.

"No, it's alright. I'm over it."

Nonetheless, as though it can somehow be my apology, my lips find her's in the dark. I kiss her gently.

"Where do you see yourself in the future?"

"I… " She nuzzles my hair, "Why are you so curious today, Q?"

"I don't know… sorry… is it annoying?"

"It's cute," she whispers, "My future… I'd rather not think about it. Take each day as it is."

"Santana, do you have a special someone?"

I hear her chuckle softly into the dark, "I think so. Do you?"

"What do you mean 'you think so'?"

"Mm… Doesn't matter. Do you?"

"I'm engaged?"

"Doesn't mean that's your special someone, does it?"

I fall silent. No, it doesn't. I don't feel anything when I'm with Finn. He's just someone I _have_ to marry.

"There's no possibility of you staying with me, is there?"

"What?"

"No, nevermind…" Running her fingers through my hair, she lets out a hearty sigh, "Tomorrow. Tomorrow we reach land."

"Really?" I'm not as excited as I should be. In fact, a small part of me dreads it. I'm not sure I'm ready to leave this place yet.

"Yeah. We're docking tomorrow first thing in the morning." Santana's voice has lost it's usual enthusiasm, too. Does she realize I'm planning on leaving?

"Let's not sleep tonight then. It's our last ni-" I pause. I can't blow my cover now. "It's our last night together before we get onto land… How long are we docking for?" Whatever I'm saying doesn't even sound convincing to me.

"Probably a day. Maximum two. Need to load up materials," Santana sighs as she sits up, pulling herself away from me. I sit up with her. "How do you want to spend the night then? Want a third round or what?"

"You know…" I lean in, finding the nape of her neck at my lips, "I've been here for three and a half weeks… It's always been you pleasuring me… I thought maybe… I can return the favor?" It's not that I feel as though is compulsory… I just… want to leave Santana with something to remember…

"You're cute," Santana murmurs, tilting her head back to give me more room, "Do you want to do this blindly groping or do you want me to light a candle?"

"Just a dim candle will be fine…" I whisper as she gets up. I hear a match strike, and then a small flame.

The flame illuminates the room by a fraction more, letting shadows waver around in the room. Santana comes towards me again, already naked since I forced her out of her clothes last round. She has a strange expression on her face, but as she closes the distance between us, I see it no more.

Our lips meet in a passionate kiss. The way she moves her lips gently against mine drives me insane. As much as I want to lose myself, though, I pull away. "This is your turn, not mine. It's about you…" I whisper as I kiss her on her neck. I'm certain that if she kisses me on the lips again, she'll be able to easily dominate me.

I trail a series of kisses down from her neck and between her breasts. She's watching my every movement, which makes me a little nervous. I then kiss each of her breasts softly, watching as her nipples harden in anticipation. Her breathing grows ragged.

"How long has it been since you've been… you know…"

"Almost a month. Since you came…"

I waste no time in making an answer, partially because I don't know how to answer that, but also because I can see her quiver under my touch. I lick the hardened nub softly, already eliciting a small gasp from Santana. I raise my gaze to meet her's, still licking around and occasionally across her nipple. She can't seem to pull her gaze away from mine, although her cheeks are growing redder by the moment.

I'm suddenly filled with a need to kiss Santana. So I do. I pull my lips from her breasts and kiss her on the lips. I press her towards the mattress, trying to make her drown in me.

With one hand, I prop myself up above her. With the other, I draw random patterns on her toned abdomen. She shivers with excitement, opening her lips to gasp. I take this opportunity to slip my tongue into her mouth. She does little to fight back.

The moment my finger trails lower onto her clit is the moment she breaks our kiss with a tilt of her head and a moan. My finger ghosts over her, touching her very gently, with minimal pressure. She lets out a small whimper, bucking her hips for more.

Although I've never done this to a girl before, having been done by Santana has taught me lots.

I trail kisses back down her jawbone and to her breasts once more, this time, sucking intently on one nipple. I rub her clit in a circular motion. Santana lets out a strangled moan and shivers under my touch.

"Quinn…" I love the way she whispers my name, the way she wants me. It's almost as though that's a plea for me to give her a little more. I kiss my way down her abdomen, feeling her back arch and her stomach muscles tighten. I kiss her just above her clit as her hands find their way to my hair. She's pushing my head lower.

I remove my finger, but before she can complain, my tongue flicks over her swollen clit. Santana lets out another sound, parting her legs to give me more room. She bucks again and again, and I try my best to hold her down with my hands, but she's a lot stronger. I watch her as she closes her eyes, a faint red on her cheeks.

I work circular motions on her clit, kissing it now and then, but most the time just licking it. She thrashes beneath me, desperate for release already.

It prides me in knowing that I'm doing a good job, but it prides me even more to know that I'm making Santana… mine…

I let my tongue travel a little lower between her folds, before retracing my path to her clit. Santana is cursing in a foreign language, moaning my name in broken English. It makes me wonder how many girls have made her feel like this…

"Fuck! Quinn!" Santana is thrown over the edge and into ecstasy without warning, but I continue to lick lazily at her clit as I watch her writhe underneath me. It thrills me to see her like this.

"Quinn…" she breathes out, "Can you… inside…" Her chest heaves from her heavy breathing, but clearly, she wants more.

I continue licking as I trace a finger between her folds, making her shiver again. She whimpers as I enter a little bit of one finger. She tightens on me, and I pause, though I let my tongue continue to work it's magic. Santana mumbles something that I can't quite make out, but she relaxes, and I enter my whole finger. I curl my finger inside of her, the way she does to me, and before long, she lets out a yelp followed by a moan. I pull my finger out, entering two at the same time, and curl my finger again at that very spot. Santana tightens her hold on my hair as I begin to lick a little harder, curling my fingers inside of her, thrusting every now and then.

She's letting out a constant stream of curses, moans, and whimpers, peppered with the occasional half-moan that begins with my name. I feel her insides begin to tighten quickly, and I see her abdomen contract. She's close, and I want this to be something she'll remember forever.

I rub a little harder inside of her, watching her writhe a little more, before breaking into a moan and shaking almost uncontrollably. I feel her tighten over my fingers as she climaxes in a silent scream. Still licking her over-sensitive clit, I try to prolong her bliss for a while more. When her euphoria begins to die down and she begins to relax, I trail kisses back up her body.

I kiss Santana on the lips again, her breathing still hitching every now and then. I run my finger across her cheek, caressing it gently. That's when I feel something wet.

Somewhat reluctantly, I pull away from Santana. "What's wrong?" I whisper. In the dim light, I can see tears streaming from her face. I frown, something unpleasant stirring inside of me, "Did I hurt you?"

"No…" she shakes her head, pulling me closer to her, "Thank you, Quinn…"

"Thank you for what, silly," I whisper, kissing her softly on the forehead.

Santana doesn't reply, only clutching onto me a little tighter. I shift my position so I'm lying comfortably beside her. Drawing her into my embrace, I kiss her lightly on the top of her head again, soothing her as her sobs die down.

She falls asleep in my arms like that, with me cradling her.

I stay awake all night, dreading the coming of dawn.

—

Any trace of Santana having cried last night is now gone. When she woke up this morning, she was her usual self, with only a hint of difference in her eyes. Something's missing in them.

"Praline?" Santana holds out a dainty cardboard box at me, filled with sugared nuts. I take one with a small smile.

It's just the two of us now, walking on the busy streets of the town, having just visited a confectionery. We're strangely quiet. I'm clad in a soft blue gown, simple, but elegant. Santana insisted on paying for it, even though I was sure she spent too much on me for one dress.

As we turn the corner into smaller alley, Santana stops me. I raise my gaze to look at her, for the first time since this morning, I see a little emotion in them.

"You want to kiss me?" I smile softly. I'm still thinking of how I can run away from Santana's watchful eye. But more often than not, the thought of how I can _bare_ to run away from Santana crosses my mind. It's a strange thought, really, because the whole idea was to make Santana _want_ to help me run away. I almost feel as though I've been using my devices not only against her, but against me.

"I do…" She leans in to catch my lips in her's for a split moment, "Listen, Blondie…" She looks away for a moment, biting her lip as though finding the right words to speak. She takes a really deep breath, inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling, and it begins to worry me. She reaches out to cradle my cheeks in her palm, but the touch is different. There's something not quite amiss, yet not quite foreign about it. But I feel as though she has never touched me this way before.

Her hand drops from my cheek to her side, "I knew what you were doing all along… I can tell… but you win, Quinn… you win…"

"What are you talking about?" Panic grips me as she speaks. Does Santana really know or is she trying to get a confession? Is she going to tell me she'll have to kill me?

"I know you want to leave. From the very first moment you kissed me, I could tell," Santana runs her hand through her hair, "Listen. I want you to spend this one last day with me. I'm going to return to the ship tonight. Before that, I'll let you go. I'll tell Captain I lost you in the crowd."

"Won't that… get you in trouble?" I choke, tears suddenly stinging my eyes and threatening to spill. I shouldn't be emotional. I should be anything but emotional I ought to be defiant, happy in my victory. But I'm not.

"It'll be worth it." Santana offers a sad smile, moving in to kiss me on the forehead, "Don't cry. You look prettier smiling. Come spend the rest of the day with me?"

"Santana…" I splutter, "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be, Blondie. You gave me the best fantasy I could ever ask for. I should thank you." The pain that lines Santana's eyes breaks me utterly. I feel ashamed all of a sudden, that I had played Santana so hard. I throw myself at her, hugging her really close. Am I being cruel, hugging her now, knowing she realizes this is all a lie? Is it a lie?

I sniffle, kissing her neck softly as she holds me back in tenderness. Shouldn't she want to kill me for what I did? I swallow, burying my face in the nape of her neck. "Do you do this often? Capturing girls, claiming them, and then setting them free?"

Santana lets out a somewhat forced chuckle, "No. None of them have really… made me… fall in love."

It stings even more to hear her say these words. I don't answer.

"Hey, Q… can I ask you something? I need you to be truthful."

"Uh… okay…" I don't want to pull away from her hold. Thankfully she doesn't push me away either.

"Did you… ever… for one second with me… maybe… just one moment… that you thought maybe you could love me?"

I find myself mute, unable to speak and unable to control my tears. I'm a cruel bitch. I should never have played with love in the first place… "Yeah… a little…" a lot.

Having this conversation with Santana completely unhinges the barrier I put between myself and my emotions. It's frightening, because I suddenly realize that Santana is more than just a pawn to me. I want to be with her.

"You hate me don't you?"

"I don't. I could never." Santa kisses me again on my forehead. "Alright… Quinn… shh… stop crying. Let's spend the day having fun then? If we're meant to be, fate will bring us back together. Remember that."

I wipe my tears with the back of my hand as I pull away. Santana takes my hand in her's. It's amazing how she can act as though nothing happened. She guides me along the busy streets, still laughing and joking as though her heart was never broken by me. As though she never knew of my intentions.

What am I doing to her? What am I doing to me? What am I doing to us?

I follow Santana around, laughing and smiling when I'm meant to, trying to stop my tears when I feel them surfacing again. Maybe I am the one taken captive after all. Maybe we both are, by each other. After all, sex doesn't come without attachment.

Santana holds me really close as we pass by the dark alleys of the town. Out in the open streets, she holds me by the hand, but in these dingy and dangerous places, she holds me by the waist. I keep wondering, wouldn't be it easier for her if she just decided to let us get robbed and mugged and maybe get me killed accidentally? At least she'd have my body with her to prove to Captain it wasn't her fault…

A man eyes us with a piercing gaze as we pass by another alley. He whistles, and Santana only pulls me closer. She wasn't lying when she promised me protection, was she?

Guilt fills my entire body from head to toe. It makes words catch in my throat, makes my laughter strangled, my thoughts a mess. I'm not as strong as I thought I was against my own emotions. Tears threaten to spill again, and I find my fingers clutched around Santana's pants.

She takes me to a street vendor selling flowers, and picks out a bouquet of forget-me-nots with a few roses for me. The silver coins jingle as she hands them to the vendor, before whipping around and handing me the flowers.

She smiles in silence, and I try my best to smile back, but torn between smiling and crying, I find only a lopsided curl on my lips.

If this is her final attempt at making me stay, I can say almost for sure that it's working. But I can't let it work.

"Should I get a parrot?" Santana asks light-heartedly as we pass by another street vendor with a dozen cages. The birds inside are cawing and making a lot of noise.

"Why do you want one all of a sudden?" I muse out loud.

"Keeps my cabin from getting too quiet. Especially if it talks."

"Oh." I murmur softly, "We could get one if you wanted to."

"Or how about this little blue thing instead? Parrots are a little squawky." Santana nears the cages, finding a smaller songbird, a shade of blue that matches my dress almost perfectly.

"Santana…"

"Do you think it'd be nice to keep her in my room?"

"Santana."

She turns to look at me, an apologetic look painted over her face, "I have a feeling you can sing, too."

I pause for a moment before smile softly, "What will you name it then?"

"Q, maybe?"

"Nothing more original?" I tease, tightening my hold on her fingers. I don't look her in the eye because I'm afraid of what I'll find there.

"Maybe 'Princess'." She stares straight at the bird, sitting dutifully in it's cage. "But maybe I'd let it perch in my cabin on a stick instead of being stuck in a cage…" She peers a little closer, "Her wings are clipped, she'll be fine out of a cage too."

A jingle of silver sounds again and Santana holds the cage in her hand. The bird chirps every now and then, but offers nothing like a song.

Dusk falls too soon. It feels like too little a time before we are due to part. I find myself in Santana's arms two streets away from the dock.

I'm shaking.

"Quinn… I have something to give you. I want you to remember me."

"What is it?"

"Here…" She takes one arm off of me and digs at her sash, before pulling out a thin blue ribbon with _the key_ tied onto it. She ties it around my neck, before kissing me lightly on my lips. "Remember me, alright? Remember who gave you this key." She touches it, smiling at me, "Don't you dare forget me."

"I won't," I choke, overcome with emotion once more. I hold her hand tight, unwilling to let go.

"Quinn, I have to go now. You should, too. Before they send someone out to find you."

"Santana…"

"Remember, we'll meet again if fate wants us to…"

"And if it doesn't?"

"It will. Trust me." Santana takes a step back from me. I refuse to let go, though. Our arms stretch out. "Quinn, we both need to go." She takes another step backwards. I shake my head and bite my lip. I don't want her to go. "Be good. We'll see each other again." She takes another step back. We don't say goodbye. Neither one of us wants to fully recognize that this is our first and last time parting.

Our arms are fully outstretched now, our fingers just touching, but neither one of us wants to let go. I watch in silence as Santana smiles sorrowfully at me, before pulling away from me completely and disappearing into the mist of people.

I want to turn and run away, the way I'm supposed to, the way I planned, but I find myself frozen solid. I don't want to be apart from Santana.

I know the life at sea isn't really for me. I also know that as the heiress of Fabray and Co., I ought to be running home, into the arms of my family and my fiancé. But life doesn't give second chances, does it? If I run away from Santana now, I may never have a chance to run into her arms again.

I know now why it's been increasingly hard for me to imagine my escape through the three weeks. It's because I don't even want to escape anymore. Santana treats me like a person, almost like a lover, and more or less, I've fallen for her. To her, I'm an individual that she has come to love.

I want to be by her side. I don't want to go home to luxury or to a good life. I'd rather have it hard with Santana than easy with anyone else.

I need Santana. Everything else seems grey and meaningless. Only Santana can bring anything colorful and good into my life. She makes me feel alive. Nothing makes me feel fuller, happier than when I'm with Santana.

My head spins as I stagger around, trying to find my balance as I'm pushed around by the crowd. I'm not quite sure how long I've been standing on the same spot, but the people around me seem to increase by the second. Someone pushes me to the side. My bouquet of flowers crashes to the floor.

I hope it's not too late.

I pick up my skirts, and run after Santana at the dock. I move quickly, trying to avoid knocking over parcels and boxes, or people in general. Having been running around barefoot on deck, the heels I have on now are only a bother, slowing me a great deal. I kick them off, my feet on the bare ground. I feel a surge of courage fill me as I push my way to the large ship docked at the harbour.

The key Santana tied to me hits my skin with every step, but it's steady rhythm only reminds me what I'm doing this for.

The smooth road of the town gives way to the rocky and uneven road of the harbour. Every now and then, I wince as a small pebble or a shard of something presses deep into my skin, threatening to break it. But nothing can stop me now, as I look desperately around me for a familiar face in the crowd—the only face I want to see.

I see a shadow on the stern of the ship. A familiar shadow, with her raven-colored hair billowing in the wind, stands lonely against it. She looks crestfallen, broken, as though a piece of her has been ripped out. Her tears glint in the fading sun. In her hand she holds a small piece of blue, cage-less and singing.

"Santana!" I call, anxious as I see the crew load up their final carts. The wind carries my voice away. She doesn't hear me.

"Santana!" I call again. This time I see her perk up, but shaking her head. From the corner of my eye, I can see the crew gathering rope and preparing to raise the plank—the only connection between land and sea.

"You dope, you're not imagining my voice! Santana!" She turns around this time, searching for me. She seems almost as desperate as I am.

"Down here!" I watch in anticipation as Santana leans over the side of the ship, looking at me. She looks weary.

"What are you doing?" she hisses, drying her eyes with the back of her hand as if to make it seem like she never cried, "You should be gone by now! They can't see you or you'll be taken back!"

"You forgot something…" I murmur, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Wait there, I'll come down." She turns in a swift movement, shoving the bird into a very confused Marley's hands, jogging towards the plank that connects the ship to the ground. I watch as she runs towards me, and I, to her.

"What did I forget," she murmurs wistfully, reaching out to hold my hand, but then remembering that I am no longer her's, and withdrawing her hand again. I reach out to take her hand, but she only pulls back further. I can't help but notice how her fingers land just where my name ought to be on her hip.

"Something important that you need to take with you on the ship."

"Quinn, I don't have time to screw around. If you want to escape, you really have to go!"

"Do you want me to go, Santana…" I whisper, taking a step closer to her. She takes a step back.

"No… I mean… yes, if that's what you want… but…" She takes another step back as I move another step forward. "Just tell me what I forgot already."

"Close your eyes." Step forward.

"Stop the games, Quinn." Step back.

"Just close your eyes." Step forward.

Santana moves a step back as she frowns, hesitantly closing her eyes. Suddenly, the shouting of the crew and then yelling of the vendors are drowned out by the soft crashing over the ocean waves. Everything else seems like a blur.

Feeling timid, shy, like a little girl again, I take a step closer to Santana, leaning in and kissing her on the cheek. She flinches, wanting to open her eyes and move away, but my fingers find her's and I hold her tight, refusing to let her go.

Finding her ear conveniently close to me, I smile, "You forgot me."


	2. The Little Cub

**_Taking your girlfriend to a zoo for a date. What could go wrong? Absolutely nothing. Nothing except maybe she's sort of forgotten you're there because there's a cute little lion cub in her lap._**

**_Rating: probably K+... or T?_**

_So this was originally never planned to be posted, it was just a short oneshot that really has not much plot and tons of fluff written both as a de-stress and as a little gift for someone I hold very dear. And a pretty bad title because, hey, I thought of that last minute! _

_Anyhow, if you're not into some super fluffly nonsense, this probably isn't for you! And if you are, then please enjoy!_

* * *

**The Little Cub**

"Touch it!"

"No! Never!"

"Don't be so chicken!"

"Fine thing to say in front of a hungry lion!"

"Santana, it's only a lion cub!"

"Have you seen it's teeth?"

"Santana..."

"Quinn!"

Quinn laughed softly as she cradled the little cub in her arms. Usually, she wasn't a fan of any animal that might bite her hand off, but this little ball of fur was simply too cute. And considered rather harmless, too.

"You're going to get yourself killed," Santana mumbled as she sat down a good meter away from Quinn and the golden nightmare, huffing and pouting, "That thing isn't safe. Just look at the way it's eyeing you, like it wants to swallow you or something."

"Santana, you're being ridiculous. You're usually not a pussy."

"I'm still not one, Q," she frowned, and decided to continue speaking before Quinn had a chance to butt in, "no, it doesn't matter what I eat." Squinting at the small thing, Santana scrunched up her nose, "I'm just saying that thing isn't safe."

"And wishing you were two miles from me."

"Nope. Wishing _we_ were two miles from _him_."

The lion cub let out a small yowl as it wiggled in Quinn's arms, yawning as he snuggled a little closer. Santana visibly flinched.

"See? He so wants to eat you whole. His mouth is so wide open and ready for it." Santana sighed, a little disheartened from all the attention her girlfriend of eight months was giving the little thing. It was ridiculous, but she felt a little lonely and ignored. This was supposed to be _their_ little date at the zoo, _their_ little day of fun—now all ruined by a yellow furred monster. She looked away, trying to busy herself with the distant howling of the monkeys a few cages down. Why had she agreed to pay extra to let Quinn feed a lion cub again?

"I'll bet he isn't the only one wants to eat me whole," came the softest husk right into the shell of Santana's ear, "Someone's jealous." The words made her shudder, her shoulders jumping a little.

"What the hell, Quinn! Take that thing away from me!" Finding a growing heat at her cheeks, Santana tried to scoot down the bench a little more, but found no more space at the edge. "Quinn!" she begged, unwillingly but obviously afraid of the little animal. She wasn't as badass as she always made herself seem. And of course, she wasn't jealous—certainly not of a little lion!

A woman in a uniform walked up to the pair and passed Quinn a warm bottle of formulated milk. She offered a small smile, before walking back towards the door where another zookeeper waited for her. The two talked softly in the distance, keeping a watchful eye for the little cub.

Santana watched in silence as Quinn rubbed the milk bottle between her hands to mix it thoroughly. She tried her best to focus on Quinn, her adorable smile and that twinkle in her eye, but the squirming of the fur ball on her lap was a great distraction.

As soon as the cub noticed the bottle, he began pawing at Quinn, much to Santana's terror. She chose to keep quiet though, even though the hair on the back of her neck was standing straight, and she gripped the edge of the bench tightly.

"Relax, you idiot," Quinn smiled as she put the tip of the bottle to the cub's mouth. Santana wasn't sure which 'idiot' she was talking to. That is, until a small glint appeared in Quinn's eye, and she looked up from the cub directly and directly at Santana, "What am I gonna do in nine months if you can't even handle a non-human baby?"

It took a moment for that information to sink in. "Wait what?" Santana's eyes rolled wide open, her mouth hanging slightly agape, "What baby?" She felt her blood run cold. Almost.

"I'm only teasing," Quinn whispered with a bemused smirk after letting silence hang in the air for a half-minute, "You're cute."

"Ugh, Quinn! You scared me shitless just now. I thought you… maybe…"

"Cheated?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, "Please, Santana. If I was pregnant, you know it'd have to be your fault."

"I don't have a dick."

"Hush, you're talking in front of a _kid,_" Quinn eyed the cub quickly, and then shifted her gaze back to Santana. Santana rolled her eyes warily, and then allowed herself to stare at Quinn. For a moment too long, they held each other's gaze.

"What are you looking at." Santana murmured as she turned away, suddenly feeling a little naked for no reason. Well, some reason, but none that she'd admit.

"You." Quinn said simply, deciding to scoot a little closer to Santana, leaning her head on her shoulder.

"Blondie, you like children don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Would you want a little boy or a little girl?"

Quinn smiled at the lion cub on her lap, sighing softly, "I want a little girl to dress up. She'd be pretty. Like her mami. But then if that child has a temper like yours, then please, let it be a little boy. And then we can have a baby girl after. That way our boy can go all Snixxy on whoever bullies our little girl."

"You seem to have thought this out already," Santana put her arm around Quinn's waist, careful not to touch a single fur of the lion's, but held Quinn tightly, "Do you want a child?"

"Maybe… yes…"

"I'd give you one if I could."

"San, you're being silly," Quinn laughed softly as she raised her head from her comfortable position just as the cub finished suckling, "Last time I checked, fingers don't shoot semen."

"Well, I mean, we could get artificial insemination or something…"

"I would want a kid with your genes, not some stranger's," Quinn sighed as the cub moved around on her lap once more to find the perfect position to nestle.

"You're cute. I'd want a kid with you too. Maybe I should get surgery."

"No, you idiot. I like your pussy. Now prove to me you're not scared of trivial things before you even think about having a kid with me," Quinn murmured softly, grinning mischievously at Santana, "You can't expect me to trust a kid with you if they're more excited and fearless of the world than you, Auntie Snixx."

"Oh, alright," Santana sighed knowing where this was headed already, "What do you want me to do?"

"Here, take this," Quinn hooked her hands under the cub's armpits, and lifted him into Santana's lap. Santana was trying her best not to scream. "Just pet it. It's gentle."

"Its teeth." Santana hissed, her hand an inch above the cub's head, sort-of ready but not really ready to close the space between skin and fur.

"Trust me." Quinn placed a hand on top of Santana's pressing it down slowly and tenderly. A sudden warmness flooded Santana, like the way sunshine fills a cold body with warmth. Santana held her breath as her fingers neared the cub, while all too aware of Quinn's arm slipping under her own. Quinn leaned impossibly closer, as though she was offering silent support.

As soon as Santana felt the fur and gained no reaction from the cub, other than a playful swat on her thigh from the little lion having found a new curiosity in playing with the ribbon on Quinn's sundress, Santana let herself relax. She stroked the cub's head softly, finding that she actually enjoyed it. Maybe it was the way Quinn's hand rested so softly and nicely on the back of her hand that made her feel a little calmer. Or maybe it was how Quinn was nestled so comfortably against her that made her feel all fuzzy inside.

"So am I worthy to have a kid with you?" Santana asked, a hint of hope in her voice as she turned to look directly into Quinn's beautiful hazel eyes. She found emotion swimming freely in there as Quinn lifted her head, and saw herself reflected in those delicate orbs. She also saw the soft pink lips that formed a small smile between Quinn's blushing cheeks.

"Put a ring on the finger, and we'll see."


	3. Promise

**_I made a promise I meant to keep. I made many, really, that I meant to fulfill one by one. But the clock is ticking, and time doesn't wait for anyone._**

**_Rating: T_**

_Sooo... I wrote this up in exactly 45 minutes. Just a short drabble that I threw together after listening to a sad song 46 times over the course of 3.5 hours..._

_I cried writing it, and I believe you guys will cry reading it..._

_Just as a warning, there is HEAVILY implied character death (scratch that, no use sugarcoating this! character death is included)... and not exactly endgame. It's short, sweet, sad, and emotional. So you have been warned, read at your own risk!_

_For those of you that don't want your heart broken just yet, don't read this! For those of you fellow masochists out there, feel free to proceed, and let me know what you thought~!_

* * *

**Promise**

I've always thought innocence was something that didn't truly exist. I always thought innocence lay only between the covers of a fairytale, in a newborn who has yet to open his eyes. I always thought innocence belonged only in the musical, magical laughter of nymphs, in the heavenly realms of Paradise. But I was wrong.

Before me lies a sleeping angel, a woman of true beauty. She knows no pain, no heartbreaks. She knows not the cruelty of the world.

But she will know.

I stroke her soft cheeks with my cold fingers, watching her every fleeting emotion, every shaky breath. She smiles softly in her sleep, dreaming of a place we'll never go, of a thing we'll never be.

Just as I find myself fully caught up in that endearing smile she wears on her pink lips, I see her eyes flutter open, her long eyelashes moving as she blinks away sleep. Her golden hair is still in the crazy matted bun that she hastily put it in last night.

"Good morning, Santana," I hear her purr as she sits up straight, lifting her head from my stomach, but leaning her face towards me.

"Morning, Quinn," I husk back, "Slept well?"

"Very," she tells me, snaking her fingers into mine, "You?"

"You talk a lot in your sleep."

"I'm sorry," she laughs heartily, almost as though she's trying to forcefully push away the hurt, rubbing her thumb on the back of my hand, "What did I say?"

"You told me you loved me," I whisper, weighing out the decision to pull her in bed with me, against the rules of the institution.

"You're using the wrong verb tense. I love you. I still do. Always will."

"You're such a sap."

"But you love me."

"I do."

For a moment, we sit in silence, just enjoying the simple company of each other.

My days of peace are limited. Or eternal, depending on how you see it.

"What do you want for breakfast today, S?" Quinn murmurs as she stands up from her hardwood chair, stretching her legs. Her fingers don't leave mine. It's as though by physically holding a part of me for a moment longer, she can keep the rest of me forever.

"You cried in your sleep last night, didn't you?" I ask softly just as she pulls away from me to pour a cup of water for me.

"How'd you know?" she wonders aloud, without turning her head.

"I just know," I smile wistfully as she returns with a mug full of warm water that I down without a single complaint, "I know a lot of things."

"You know you'll get better right?" she blurts, her eyes lined with a tiredness unparalleled by any eyes I've ever seen.

"Of course," I lie, trying to smile through my eyes, though I know better. She knows better, too. "When I do, we'll travel the world."

"Promise?"

"Only if that's our honeymoon, though."

"I'm just waiting for you," she muses with a childish twinkle in her eye, "I'm ready to pack our luggage and go~"

We both laugh at the fantasy.

"Quinn, come here," I pat the side of my bed, placing the now-empty mug on the nightstand beside the bed.

She sits beside me as I wrap her into a tight hug, sinking myself into everything Quinn.

"Don't give up. Not yet."

"I'm not." It's a losing battle, but for her, I will try.

She leans in with a soft kiss, moving aside the comforter and slipping herself in. The initial cold of the air dies away as her body warmth mingles with mine.

"You're freezing," Quinn comments as she holds me beneath the covers, "And you've grown skinnier again."

"Bake for me. Cook for me. Feed me."

"Once you get out of here," she promises with another musical laugh.

"Once you learn to cook," I retort, kissing her on the cheek before moulding myself into her embrace.

"Well, you have yet to teach me," she murmurs into my hair, "You promised."

"I did." I look up to find her hazel eyes swimming with emotion, "Why are you crying again? You're making me feel bad."

"I just…"

"Wait for me. I'll get out of here."

"You will." Her voice lacks conviction.

We both know I won't.

The wind blows outside the window on the cold winter's morning. No glimmer of sun can shine through the thick fog, and no thread of life can weave through the dark shadows.

Quinn's eyes were filled with a certain sorrow, like she _knew._ She knew as well as I did. It was as though she understood, she realized. The clock is ticking. Time doesn't rewind.

I wish it did.

Two years ago, in her, I found rescue. In her, I found me.

In Quinn, I found true love, someone who wouldn't use me, someone who understood me, cared for me, took me for who I was.

Someone who knew of and accepted my expiry date. Quinn, in all her purity and innocence, lit the flame back on the dying candle, only to see it snuffed out again. She gave me life, only to watch me fade away.

I'd give everything to relive those two years.

Those two years were anything but easy. Those two years were hard, especially the last three months. Yet Quinn pulled through so gracefully. She taught me to, too. And she did all of it with such patience, such love, such care, such innocence.

And I took that innocence, that innocence I cherished so much, the pure love I never thought I'd ever find or deserve. I took that innocence when I broke her heart, when I showed her pain. I took that innocence when I kissed her for the last time, pressing my lips against her's with a content sigh, before resting my head on her chest, listening to her heart beat a melody of life.

I took her innocence when I promised her with my final breath that I'd marry her in my afterlife.


	4. Murder Me with Lace and Silence

_**It's the end... Either do or die...**_

**_Rating:...T? Or M, because it's dark and ominous, but no sex._**

_I ought to write happier drabbles. And I ought to write more oneshots like I promised. I have two lined up right now... stay tuned? _

_Warning: Ambiguous ending... like... SUPER ambiguous... Angst to the max!_

* * *

**Murder Me with Lace and Silence**

Silence.

Standing in front of the mirror, my are vacant, and I watch wearily as sun-kissed hands tug at the corset, making it impossible to breathe. My breath hitches for a moment, as I chase after that last breath that I can take until the ribbons are free again, but I don't speak. Blankly staring into the mirror, I vaguely register your motions as every single ruffle is laid into place, ever single wrinkle smoothed.

White doesn't look becoming on me. I look too pale, too sickly.

"Lady Fabray?"

"Yes, Santana? Just call me Quinn. You always call me Quinn."

You part your lips, but nothing comes out. It hurts.

For a moment, I let my gaze wander, only to find it locked onto dark brown eyes, reflected in the mirror.

You aren't smirking. I crave the smirk you always wear, now that I've lost it.

Instead, there is an unreadable look on you face, those usually fierce features betraying nothing. Only you eyes offer a glimmer of some life, the ghost of what you used to be. There's fear... worry... regret...

This isn't you... where are you, Santana? Why aren't you holding me, kissing me into the deep dark night, into ungodly hours just before the chapel bells clamour, and telling me it's finally time to run away like you promised we would?

Silence hangs thick in the air as you averts your eyes, looking straight into the mirror for the sixth time to ensure the collar heavy on my neck is exactly straight. And it is. Not even a fraction to the left or the right, and not a single unwelcome wrinkle. You're never less than perfect. Never were, and never will be.

As you turn to retrieve another piece of the ensemble, you catch me staring at you through the mirror again. You stop. I look away.

For the longest time, I can feel that stare burning deep into me. I can feel the way that it's passionate, angry even. You want me to say something, but we both know I can't.

At long last, you return to fixing my endless layers of cloth, and I return to watching you.

I can't exactly tell what you want to say, nor can I say what I want to say. Or perhaps it is simply that I do not dare guess, and do not dare speak. I fear the answer is what I believe it to be, and yet I fear it is not what I believe it to be...

Love is contradicting.

How did love even come to be? I can't even remember when we started holding hands, or when you kissed me for the first time. It feels like it's been forever, and yet it still feels as fresh as yesterday. When was the first night you held me in my sleep, shielded me from the evils of the night? And when was the first time you made love to me in the dark…?

I see you holding a thin piece of lace. Probably some sort of decoration to complete the doll I now resemble.

Why am I being married off again? I can't remember. My father's words remain out of reach. Even the name of my husband-to-be escapes my mind. I'm not me, and will never be. I can't, not without you.

I swallow as you hold the lace against my neck, and suddenly I can sense murder in your eyes. I can tell you're struggling between killing me to stop your nightmare... our nightmare... or to let me live and let the nightmare continue. You hold it tighter against my neck, the soft curves of the cloth seemingly cutting deep into my skin. Perchance I am bleeding, but perchance, it is only what I wish for.

I close my eyes, but whether in fear or anticipation, I know not.

Your nightmare is my nightmare.

I feel it close, close, close, biting at my skin.

I don't scream, I'm not scared. Not with knowing that I'd be falling into your arms before I fall into an everlasting darkness.

Suddenly, I feel your lips pressing against mine. I don't open my eyes though, because I feel the lace tighten around my neck. I can't tell whether you're fastening the choker, or actually choking me.

I refuse to cry though, because I'd rather leave now, than walk through these wooden doors of my room, through the corridor, and into the hall downstairs, and leave you forever. I'm not scared when you're with me. And I don't want to imagine life without you.

Listen, Santana... Follow my last order... Murder me with lace and silence.


End file.
